Part 30

Already in 1842, Schumann had confessed that German opera was the subject of his daily prayer, it being a field in which much could be accomplished. This longing took a more decided shape in Dresden, where the operatic interest predominated. There he heard many new and old operas, watching also the development of him who was destined to become the central figure of modern musical dramatic art. Schumann's relation to Wagner's personal and artistic individuality and his opinion of the latter's earlier works cover a ground on which we hope the future will gain more information than that afforded by the occasional remarks in Schumann's letters. He had an irresistible desire to participate in the reform of the opera, and has shown in his "Genoveva," at least his idea of the best solution of the problem. He believed honestly in his ability to write dramatic music. After searching a long while among old legends and stories, thinking also of Nibelungen, Wartburg Contest and similar subjects, he decided in favor of "Genoveva," already treated as tragedy by Tieck and Hebbel. The painter-poet Reinick was invited to write a libretto, based mainly on Hebbel's drama; his book not being satisfactory, Schumann applied to Hebbel, who, however, politely declined. The composer, being thus forced to arrange it himself, not only combined the two different plots and styles of Tieck and Hebbel, but added new features, and omitted others which would have greatly increased the sympathy for his play and heroine. Musically he followed Weber in his last operatic experiment "Euryanthe," closely uniting words, music and action, and connecting the single scenes into one coherent act. But he substituted for the old form of the recitative the more melodious, but certainly more monotonous, undramatic arioso. There are four acts and four principal parts of contrasting individuality. There is no lack of passionate or tender emotional scenes, of great ensemble numbers, or of scenic display; nor does the lyric element unduly predominate, but in Schumann's mode of treatment even the dramatic speech assumes a lyric character, and with all the variety of moods, all the great single effects and the large number of beautiful music pieces (prayer, hunting song, love duet, etc.), one does not feel able to retain a hearty, active interest till the end of the last act. Instead of an impressive picture of human passions, sufferings and joys, we have only a musical illustration of an old story which we liked to read in childhood. Schumann entertained a very high opinion of his work, saying that it did not contain one bar of undramatic music. He erred, but nevertheless "Genoveva" remains a most interesting attempt of one of our greatest masters to solve the operatic problem, an attempt noble in its sincerity, rich in musical beauty and fine psychological detail, bright in color, yet of more of the style of oil-painting than the al fresco required by the stage. Long after the unsuccessful performances in Leipsic the opera has been revived in many German cities, still finding to-day a limited, but highly interested audience of those who love its author from his immortal masterworks in other fields. At least the magnificent overture will perpetuate its memory as a favorite concert number all over the world.

Thus Schumann has cultivated every field of his art, not with equal success, but always with sincere earnestness of purpose and a noble ambition to widen its domain, and to refine its mode of expression. How original was he in its treatment of melody, rhythm, harmony, instrumentation, and of the relation of music to poetry, in the combination of old forms with a new spirit and in his endeavors to find new forms. Closely connected in spirit and form with Bach, Beethoven and Schubert, he was himself so rich and original that he became a great influence upon younger representatives of his art, even on the other side of the Rhine and the British channel, though less so in southern countries. Some younger composers were particularly successful as his followers in some special field, while others showed his great influence in the shaping or coloring of many of their best known and otherwise most original productions. His music will be forever an inexhaustible source of pure enjoyment for earnest music lovers, and of the most valuable studies for young aspiring composers of any nationality.

There was however another means by which Schumann exercised a far-reaching influence, namely, his literary and critical work. His writings, collected by himself and published in two volumes, belong among the most instructive and enjoyable books on music. Yet one must not forget the time when they were written. Since then we have become accustomed to many new ideas and names, while many once prominent men and once famous compositions are already forgotten. Still, even if many articles of Schumann are interesting more in a historical sense, we cannot help being impressed everywhere by his pure, noble, enthusiastic spirit, his high opinion of the dignity of art, his extensive knowledge of a general character, and by his fine taste and clear judgment. He was as far from cold scientific theories as from mystic philosophical comprehensions. He was fond of an epigrammatic style, abounding in exclamations and beautiful poetic pictures. Indeed there is undeniably a similarity of style between his earlier writings and compositions.

Schumann's aim was to promote all high interests of art, a better knowledge of old masters, a loving appreciation of any merits of contemporaneous composers and the preparation of new fields for coming talents. How happy is he, when permitted to praise enthusiastically! how rare his ability, to so describe the beauty of a composition that we become really acquainted with its form and spirit! Yet he is not always enthusiastic, but sometimes quietly instructive, sarcastic and witty, or passionately angry, as in his one-sided, yet comprehensible attacks on Meyerbeer, Italian opera, or light piano music after the fashion of Herz. But it shows a generous and noble character that he, a rare productive genius, found almost his greatest pleasure in discovering new talents; that even after many years' retirement from all journalistic work, he once more raised his enthusiastic, prophetic voice to introduce Brahms to the musical world! Nor was he narrow-minded regarding nationality; no Pole could ever write of Chopin with more enthusiasm, no Frenchman of Berlioz with a keener appreciation than Schumann did, and how heartily did he welcome Gade the Dane, Bennett the Englishman, Verhulst the Hollander! He calls art a fugue, in which all the civilized nations participate alternately. His articles also abound in most remarkable statements of a general nature. Of a true work of art he demands a spiritual meaning and a form corresponding to the composer's individuality. "Music impels nightingales to utter love-songs, pug-dogs to yelp." "An equipped eye sees stars where others only clouds and shadows." "The critic must hasten past those who are sinking and fight for the men of the future." He ridicules those who "on a ladder try to measure a colossus like Beethoven with yard-sticks in their hands." In his reviews on new publications he confined himself to instrumental music, with a few exceptions. The famous article on Schubert's symphony in C has hardly more lasting value than the one on Berlioz, with the many significant remarks on the power of orchestral instruments for expression and description. But his many high praises of Mendelssohn honor him most. When once told that Mendelssohn was not true to him, he refused to believe it and always kept his memory as sacred as that of Schubert. Yet in speaking of their mutual relations Schumann confessed that he could learn much from Mendelssohn, but Mendelssohn could also learn something from him, and that, if he had been brought up in the same happy circumstances as his contemporaries, he would surpass them one and all. In Dresden Schumann kept a little theatre journal, in which he wrote short notes on old and new pieces; interesting remarks just like those in "Meister Raro's, Florestan's and Eusebius' Denk- und Dichtbüchlein" or the well known "Rules for young people."

Aside from all musical interest, one may regard Schumann's writings as valuable contributions to literature emanating from an author of the finest artistic sense, a master of his language and of the most wonderful expressions for the subtleties of poetic or musical feelings. It would not be right not to mention here his many letters, which so far have been published in several collections and which are as instructive for the musician as enjoyable for the general reader. They help greatly to understand his individuality as man and artist. By his literary writings Schumann has perhaps exercised directly and indirectly as great an influence as by his musical works. Yet it is the latter, by which he will live for ever as one who has given his life-blood to his art and enriched our literature by masterworks of absolute beauty, greatness and originality, and who, even where he erred or made unsuccessful experiments, is worthy of our sincere sympathy because of the honesty of his purpose. Boundless is our gratitude and veneration for him whose genius will continue to reach thousands of new admirers that will honor in him a peer of those who are the corner stones of musical art.

ROBERT FRANZ

In the study of the history of musical art, nothing can strike our mind more impressively than the observation of its coherency, of the connection between the different phases in the development of each particular field and between its most prominent representatives; but most striking is this impression when we become aware of an influence directly felt through generations. When about a generation ago the conservative Professor Bischoff sarcastically threw the term "music of the future" into the world with reference to Wagner's music dramas, the master accepted it as a watchword, and in his pamphlet "The art work of the future," laid down the hopes and ideals which he strove to realize. Numberless times since then has this phrase been used everywhere, and those who, standing in the midst of the movement, wanted to become clear as to its true meaning, had at least to admit that all great music has ever been "music of the future," whether its value has been recognized by contemporaries or not. But most eminently it has seemed to apply to the great master, Johann Sebastian Bach. Of him, who died more than fourteen decades ago, it could have been said, that only a very remote future would do his works justice, for even to-day they must still be regarded as "music of the future," and the influence which they were destined to exert upon the development of musical art in various fields, is still far from having reached its end. It is inspiring to see how the thorough understanding and appreciation of this genius, and of the wealth, depth and greatness of his style, are progressing in the different countries, and just as inspiring to examine his extraordinary influence upon the more recent epochs of musical history. While some composers tried to follow him in his own fields, as Mendelssohn in the oratorio or Rheinberger in compositions for the organ, others, as Schumann and Brahms in instrumental works, have adopted his wonderful polyphonic and contrapuntal art, showing his influence just in those productions, which otherwise exhibit most strongly their own individuality. Even the revolutionary Wagner held Bach's genius in veneration, and paid a noble tribute to it in his Mastersingers. Indeed, considering these facts, an overwhelming sense of admiration and gratitude must fill our hearts, particularly in thinking of the great master of modern German song to whom this article is devoted.

Not an imitator, but a worthy successor of Bach, in a field, the highest cultivation of which has been preserved to modern time as one of its noblest tasks, is Robert Franz, whose life and works may perhaps awaken a double interest, if viewed in the light of the above introductory remarks. In outward appearance this life was, perhaps, even more quiet and simple than that of Bach. Franz's soul and mind had always turned toward the inner world, just as in his songs he studiously avoided all ostentation and meaningless brilliancy. There is indeed a significant harmony between his life and songs, the latter being the outgrowth of the former, not occasionally written down from a vain ambition to compose, nor as a pastime or fashion, but as the fulfilment of his life's task, to which his genius had committed him.

Robert Franz was born June 28, 1815, in Halle, the old university town in the centre of Germany, the birthplace of Handel. Here Franz has remained all his life. He did not descend from a musical family, but from plain, honest, business people; nor were there any direct early proofs of his musical genius, as only in his fourteenth year he was given an opportunity, on an antique, spinet-like pantaleon (or large dulcimer) to make his first practical experiments, at the same time trying, unaided, with a touching perseverance, to find out the secrets of musical notation. However, he had received his first musical impressions when very young. At two years of age he had been amply impressed by Luther's choral, "A Mighty Fortress is Our Lord," played by trombones from the steeple of a church at the celebration of the third centenary of the Reformation. At home his father was accustomed to sing the old church and folk songs. The effect of these early impressions on his young musical soul was soon obvious, for he says that in school he had an irresistible desire to add a second voice to the melodies which were being practised. His unsolicited assistance was looked upon as a crime by the teacher, who punished him for it repeatedly. It was the mother who first lent a helping hand to the boy's outspoken talent and inclination, and who succeeded in persuading his father to buy the already mentioned pantaleon. Naturally the instruction which young Robert received, first from a relative and then by nearly all the different music teachers of Halle in succession, was not of much value. He achieved more by his own impulses, practising chorals with friends, eagerly studying the organ and using every opportunity to play accompaniments, as for instance, in the choral rehearsals of the famous Franke Asylum. There he became acquainted with the music of Mozart, Haydn, and his great fellow citizen, Handel, and there he was first fired with the spirit of composition. Unadvised and without the least theoretical preparation he yielded to his desire to compose, neglecting even his school duties in favor of this impulse, the results of which, however, he has declared utterly worthless. It was difficult for him, especially in his own home, to brave all depreciation of his talents and to overcome all opposition; only the firm belief in his artistic calling enabled him to fight the battle through victoriously.

Franz was twenty years old, when at last his parents consented to his thorough professional education. The Leipsic Conservatory not having been founded, the music school of the famous theorist and composer, Friedrich Schneider, in Dessau, was at that time held in highest esteem, and there Franz was sent. The rather patriarchal, old fashioned, pedantic spirit which prevailed in this school, could certainly offer to the young aspiring student substantial knowledge, though it could do but little to develop his poetic nature. Yet he learned a great deal there, and laid a most excellent foundation to the eminent theoretical knowledge and mastery in the strict contrapuntal and polyphonic style by which he later won such a high distinction.

Besides this, the ever fresh impulses of his own nature and the inspiring intercourse with congenial fellow students helped to mature his own musical individuality. A peculiar influence is attributed to a certain Reupsch, whom Franz describes as quite extraordinary in improvisations on the organ and in the treatment of chorals. Nothing has ever been published of all the works (consisting of pianoforte sonatas, a mass, etc.) which were composed during these years. Franz felt that his nature would lead him upon an independent path of his own, but his instinct had not yet found this sphere. After two years of study he returned home, only to meet with new opposition and mistrust in his talent. No position was offered him, no compositions appeared in print; and it was then that the sympathy of his faithful mother remained his best comfort. In the circles of cultivated dilettanti he learned that the intrinsic value of a work of art is found in its inner significance, and that its formal value, if it be a really artistic production, should be a matter of course. This is the very idea for which Robert Schumann was then fighting, and which men like Wagner, Liszt and Berlioz have made the principle of their artistic creed. Yet all true art rests on the closest harmony between both elements, where the form is the necessary and most perfect expression of the ideal contents, the two forming a perfect union. What a blessing was it that Franz in this way found rich opportunities to become acquainted with old Italian music, and with the three great German masters, Bach, Schubert and Schumann, whose works have most essentially influenced the moulding of his own musical language.

He gave such close study to their works that his nervous system was overwrought, and becoming his own severest critic he destroyed all his former compositions. Courage and confidence seemed to leave him and for years his production ceased. This did not prevent him from striving to acquire a higher general education, however, and he applied himself especially to the study of philosophy and literature, availing himself of the rich opportunities afforded by the University of his city. At last a short dream of love brought forth the music of his soul, his first songs, which came forth from the depths of his heart. This was in 1843. Schumann, to whom he sent the songs, honored him with a most hearty recognition of his talent, and was helpful in finding a publisher. But Franz's nervous condition and ominous, early developing auricular sufferings obliged him to take an extended trip to Tyrol and Italy. The journey strengthened him so much that after his return he was finally able to devote with enthusiasm his rich talents untrammelled to the cultivation of his new field. Others followed Schumann in their sincere recognition of our composer's talent, among whom were Gade, Mendelssohn, and especially Liszt, who was so often the noble champion for new talents, and who wrote one of his finest pamphlets in praise of Franz's songs. Wagner, who certainly never could be accused of being too liberal in his praise of others, was not to be outdone. In a letter to Uhlig he says he will never forget that Franz was, after Liszt, the first German musician who had done him justice.

Besides some compositions for the church, and a few part songs, Franz has confined himself to the cultivation of the German "Lied" with a wonderful concentration of all his faculties, reaching the highest perfection, richness, depth, and beauty in this one _genre_, as Chopin did in his field of pianoforte compositions. As regards his practical occupation in Halle, he held several positions, with which he had been entrusted soon after his first success as a composer, being organist at the St. Ulrici church and director of the singing Academy and the symphony concerts, as well as at the University. However, his increasing nervous and auricular maladies obliged him in 1868 to resign all these offices and to live from the limited earnings of his compositions. A generous gift in money started by the always noble minded Liszt, and supported by admirers in Germany, England and America, released him from all further anxieties. Thus the dear master, invalid in body but young in spirit, lived in retirement in his native city, with his wife, Maria Hinrichs, slowly winning the recognition of the musical world. Letters received from him in the summer of 1892 still showed an unusually bright and active mind, so that the announcement of his death, which occurred Oct. 24th in Halle, came as a sad surprise. Many an honor has been conferred upon him, the title of a royal music director, of an honorary doctor of the Halle University, and Bavarian and Prussian orders. Yet greater than all these is the honor of living forever through his works in the hearts of his people, and in the high esteem of all students of music and its history.

The collection of Robert Franz's songs may be well compared to a lovely garden, most carefully adorned with beautiful flowers of every variety, each of which attracts and deserves our special and close attention. Indeed, whoever takes pains, in an earnest and loving mind to review these songs one by one, and to penetrate into their peculiar nature, style and beauty, will be surprised to observe that the composer has allowed not one to be published without having perfected it in every detail. Even the simplest folk-song had to be a true work of art, worthy of his name and genius, before he would send it upon its wanderings through the world. Another significant fact, which also does him great credit, is that each song impresses us most forcibly as being born out of a deep, sympathetic comprehension of the peculiar genius of the poet, and the language, sentiment, and spirit of the poem. There is no conventionality, no mannerism, no following of certain patterns, which so often characterize ancient and modern manufacturers of songs. Every number presents, in closest harmony with the text of the poem, an individual musical organism, bearing the mark of Franz's artistic individuality, but forming with the poem such a perfect union that we do not wish to separate the music from the words, nor are we able to fully enjoy either independent of the other. The music of his songs is not of such a character as to detract from the beauty and interest of the poem. The musical setting is designed mainly to enhance the charm of the poetic gem, and display it to best advantage.

Fac-simile of musical manuscript and letter from Robert Franz.]